I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.

And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me — not in her.

And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,”
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”
And that is dying…

Remember: Kindness is for all times in all situations – not just when it suits you.

-Audray Landrum

Those times in life when it seems that evil continually prevails, when greedy people keep getting, and vulnerable people keep losing.

Those times when those who don’t follow the rules keep winning, when those who prey on weaknesses are exulted, when those who feel entitled are granted whatever they wish, and those whose genuine efforts and unselfish motives are overlooked time after time.

Those times when I can’t bear to watch anymore, when my anger overtakes me, when for just once, for just one God damned time, my utter hatred of their actions, my complete disdain of them, my raging judgment of them makes me want to squash them, to shine a light on their selfishness, expose their nakedness to every single person, and humiliate them in front of the world.

In those times, although it’s excruciatingly difficult, I must dig deep inside of myself with humility, recognize those same tendencies in me and acknowledge my own shortcomings. I must search for the good in them, reach out with love and kindness and pray it makes a difference.

IN MANY WAYS, WE LIVE WITH what we dream and create. Our lives reflect the energy we’ve been putting into them. If we believe people are always out to get us, that is the scenario we unwittingly create and see. If we believe that people are good at heart, that is what we tend to nurture in others and see.

Does that mean if we’ve always believed the world to be hostile, there’s no love in it? Or if we’ve always been loving, there is no hostility in the world? No. But that’s likely what we’re inclined to ‘notice’ more in our daily lives.

One might think that it’s only those who are safe and loved that can see a loving world, but in my experience, it’s often those who are vulnerable and in danger who see the love in the world.

Anne Frank, whose family faced mortal danger, took the time to jot down these words: “I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.”

President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama greet Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Sophie Grégoire Trudeau at the North Portico of the White House in Washington, Thursday, March 10, 2016, for a state dinner. (AP Photo/J. Scott Applewhite)

Just a quick note to thank you and Michelle for being great examples of what leadership should look like.

I want to thank you both for all you did, and tried to do to make the United States and the world a more tolerant and safe and inclusive place. For ensuring that more folks had access to health care, for bringing hope to whole communities that had no hope before, for making tough choices, and patiently with humility, building solid relationships on the world stage. And most of all, for doing it with the poise, dignity, passion, integrity, compassion and sense of humour that should be the norm for any person who occupies a position of power.

No single person is perfect, or always gets everything right, but I believe that you did the best you could within the choices you had, and I for one, felt that I could breathe a little easier, even from way over here in Canada.

I wish you and Michelle all the very best and I know that you will continue to make a significant mark in whatever challenge you take on next.

Often when we feel as though we are between a rock and a hard place, it is hard for us to imagine that anything good can come from the situation we are in. The weight of what we are going through feels like it will crush us.

I guess one of the benefits of getting older is that we begin to learn that ‘this too, shall pass.’

We remember that we’ve come through desperate circumstances before and although life feels rough and we are looking for a way out of the current darkness, the light will break through eventually.

The human spirit is amazing in its resiliency. It is so much stronger than we give it credit for. It is tenacious in its hunger for life. And just like the plant that found a way in my parking spot by pushing through the cement and reaching for the sunlight in the above photo, we can also find our way.

So the next time you find yourself in a stony place, remember the flowers, and know that you will find your way to the light too.

Yesterday evening, I was at my local deli/bakery buying a cheesecake. While I was waiting for the clerk to fetch the cake from the back room, a woman beside me told that she loves cheesecake but could not ever buy one because her husband is diabetic.

“My dad was diabetic,” I told her.

My breath stuck in my throat.

Tears pressed on the back of my eyes.

Was.

My dad was diabetic. Past tense. I just never know what will trigger my grief.

The following story was making the rounds on Facebook a few weeks back. It brought me comfort. It helped me understand what to expect. I share it here, in the hopes that it may bring comfort to someone else.

Someone on Reddit wrote the following heartfelt plea online:

“My friend just died. I don’t know what to do.”

A lot of people responded. Then there’s one old guy’s incredible comment that stood out from the rest that might just change the way we approach life and death.

Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived so far and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter.” I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a son, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

Don’t be fooled by me.Don’t be fooled by the face I wearfor I wear a mask, a thousand masks,masks that I’m afraid to take off,and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,but don’t be fooled,for God’s sake don’t be fooled.I give you the impression that I’m secure,that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without,that confidence is my name and coolness my game,that the water’s calm and I’m in commandand that I need no one,but don’t believe me.My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,ever-varying and ever-concealing.Beneath lies no complacence.Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it.I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,a nonchalant sophisticated facade,to help me pretend,to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,and I know it.That is, if it’s followed by acceptance,if it’s followed by love.It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself,from my own self-built prison walls,from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.It’s the only thing that will assure meof what I can’t assure myself,that I’m really worth something.But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare to, I’m afraid to.I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,will not be followed by love.I’m afraid you’ll think less of me,that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothingand that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,with a facade of assurance withoutand a trembling child within.So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,and my life becomes a front.I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.I tell you everything that’s really nothing,and nothing of what’s everything,of what’s crying within me.So when I’m going through my routinedo not be fooled by what I’m saying.Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying,what I’d like to be able to say,what for survival I need to say,but what I can’t say.

I don’t like hiding.I don’t like playing superficial phony games.I want to stop playing them.I want to be genuine and spontaneous and mebut you’ve got to help me.You’ve got to hold out your handeven when that’s the last thing I seem to want.Only you can wipe away from my eyesthe blank stare of the breathing dead.Only you can call me into aliveness.Each time you’re kind, and gentle, and encouraging,each time you try to understand because you really care,my heart begins to grow wings–very small wings,very feeble wings,but wings!

With your power to touch me into feelingyou can breathe life into me.I want you to know that.I want you to know how important you are to me,how you can be a creator–an honest-to-God creator–of the person that is meif you choose to.You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,you alone can remove my mask,you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,from my lonely prison,if you choose to.Please choose to.

Do not pass me by.It will not be easy for you.A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back.It’s irrational, but despite what the books say about manoften I am irrational.I fight against the very thing I cry out for.But I am told that love is stronger than strong wallsand in this lies my hope.Please try to beat down those wallswith firm hands but with gentle handsfor a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?I am someone you know very well.For I am every man you meetand I am every woman you meet.

We live in a world where our options are often dictated to us by those in authority. A few solutions are presented and we vote for the least offensive one.

To operate outside this context seems too overwhelming a task.

Yet those self-appointed with the authority to tackle the big issues in our world are merely looking after their own interests, so why shouldn’t I look after my own?

Because realistically, what difference can I make standing alone against a wall of bureaucracy? A well-oiled machine that moves steadily on, bulldozing everything in its path?

Martin Luther King gave an ‘I have a dream’ speech, not an ‘I have a plan with three options you can choose from’ speech. He was hopeful for a day when all men and women would be equal. He was optimistic about humanity doing the right thing. It was his optimism that united a generation.

One could even say it was the greatest form of rebellion against the accepted norms of his day.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

Grant me the courage to be optimistic and unite a generation to do the right thing